The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later is a phenomenal script.   Written as a follow-up to Tectonic Theater’s docudrama The Laramie Project (2000), the sequel’s premise is an exploration of how Laramie, Wyoming has changed a decade after the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard.

Referred to on the theater’s site as an epilogue, the printed work Perrette (and co) performed on Sunday is the end result of five members of Tectonic — founder Moisés Kaufman, accompanied by Andy Paris, Leigh Fondakowski, Greg Pierotti and Stephen Belber — who sought out the same people they interviewed ten years ago for The Laramie Project and spoke with them again, along with new members of the community.

A portion of these accounts has been edited into a 10 minute clip posted on Tectonic Theater’s YouTube channel. (Link provided for those whom might be interested in subscribing…)

Otherwise, I’ve embedded it here:

In short, The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later posits regional questions, such as “Has Matthew’s murder had a lasting impact on [their] community?” and “How has the town changed as a result of this event?”

Moreover, the play addresses salient topics regarding the nation’s current social climate, through queries such as “What does life in Laramie tell us about life in America 10 years later?”

Now…

Insofar as my promise to post images from Sunday’s reading at Hollywood United Methodist Church, I encountered a bit of a roadblock on that venture—namely, several signs with the statement “There is no photography or recording (video or audio) allowed at this performance” that had been affixed throughout the structure, replete with a sentiment of “Thank you!”

In a different setting, for a different cause, and with a different cast–namely, one in which I don’t have such a formidable level of respect, let alone a personal relationship of any sort?

Truth be told, I probably would have considered it just another “Don’t So Delicious To Do.”

Nonetheless, in this case?

A group shot (courtesy of Richard Settle) will have to suffice, please.&.thanks:

Standing (L-R): Jim Parsons, James Cromwell, Helen Shaver, Pauley Perrette, Christian Clemenson

Seated (L-R): Michael Weatherly, Johnny Galecki, Barrett Foa, Lisa Edelstein, Zachary Quinto and Julie Benz.

A review of the performance awaits

:: ‘Beneath the Cut’ ::

:: Please Note: Names/Information Highlighted by Green Text Provide ‘Hot-Links’;

Pink, However, Does Not. ::

Around five minutes into the dramatization, when I realized that each of the actors–excluding James Cromwell, whose role was that of the narrator–would be “breathing life” into multiple characters?

My gut reaction was akin to that of a turkey at Thanksgiving: a sudden drop of  Oh No as everything’s gouged out.

First off, the awful truth is: few Americans read—let alone desire to be read to. So for an 90 minute long production…well, I knew it’d take a highly-skilled crew of thespians to keep the faux coughs and exaggerated sighs at bay.

Would they be able to pull it off?

Not as in: yeah, sure—they pillaged through the stack of pages, but rather: with a sense of verisimilitude.

Said another way? As an audience member already familiar with the work of seven of the eleven actors, would I be able to see past the ‘Julia-Roberts-Starring-As-Julia-Roberts’ myopia pervasive in contemporary pop culture?

The abbreviated answer: Yes.

And how! Technically, I’d have to say that Julie Benz was the initial ingénue among the contingent to succeed in terms of a believeable portrayal. (You know, that whole bit about ‘Willing Suspension of Disbelief’?)

So much so, in fact, I didn’t even realize it was she who enacted characters ranging from Laramie resident Zackie Salmon–who, in the least offensive nomenclature I’m able to conjure at the moment, might best be described as a “townie”–to Catherine Connelly, a professor at the University of Wyoming in Laramie who considers herself to be the “first ‘out’ lesbian or gay faculty member on campus.”

To reiterate, I did not recognize Benz.  As in: throughout the course of an hour-and-a-half long play.  Regardless the number of times she rose from her seat (stage L), the afternoon was completely devoid of any palm-slap-to-the-forehead “How Could I Have Been So Oblivious?” epiphany.

Perhaps if I hadn’t positioned myself on the front pew (four seats to the left from the center aisle; i.e., four seats stage R), this wouldn’t seem such an incomprehensible notion.  But considering the inordinate number of times I ogled Benz as the infamous Marci Fox (a character who assigned the affectionate pet name “Foxy!” for herself) in Jawbreaker, as well as watching both the first and second seasons of Dexter in entirety?

Well…

Not only did the actress surprise me—but I, myself.

Next up? Lisa Edelstein really let. me. have. it!

Lisa Edelstein‘s a remarkably physical actress, and her shift into Officer Regie‘s portrayal was one she inhabited from a Don’t-F-With-Me stance–feet seemingly sunk into Laramie’s insolent soil–all the way to the rough-edged flail of her fingertips. When she barked the line “Of course it’s getting re-told!” [regarding Laramie's history/the reasoning behind Shepard's death], I felt a surge of the small-town, spit-fire recalcitrant spirit ingrained within me flick on like a breaker box: a high-voltage remembrance of the daily fight for survival in an environment that wanted me to do anything but.

I might as well just go ahead and admit it: the first occassion upon which Zachary Quinto rose from his seat, I felt my body stiffen with concern. I’m fond of the gent—both as an actor and as an individual—so during his stiff-lipped portrayal of Tectonic’s founder Moises Kaufman, I…

Well, my apprehension was analogous to the Julia Roberts reference made earlier.

In spite of this predisposition, as soon as Quinto‘s enactment of The University of Wyoming’s Folklorist began, my fears were allayed. The subtle nuances Quinto imbued the Folklorist’s discussion of revisionist history were riveting: shifts in tone, posture, a sense of “something going on behind [the actor's] eyes”—namely, that he was thinking about the subject matter, not just reciting lines. In many ways, Quinto’s personification was that of a companion: the archetypical Voice of Adult Reason to Edelstein (as Regie)‘s infuriated What-The-F.

However, when the time came in which he took the role of Russell Henderson, Aaron McKinney’s accomplice in Shepard’s murder? There were moments within his discourse so visually assaulting, an entire week later, it remains a challenge for me to provide commentary beyond an incoherent stammer.

In short, Quinto‘s performance really captured an essence, the multidimensionality of Henderson as a subject: the accumulated power of remorse and innocence tucked in the back pocket of malevolence.

Through Quinto’s portrayal, it’s a uniform one might intuit Henderson has worn so long it’s threadbare, unraveling at the seams.

Then there was Christian Clemenson‘s depiction of Shepard’s father, from whom a quotation–“How do you measure change is what I’m stuck with?”–the Emmy Award-Winning actor revisited through his own harrowing inflection. These ten words, downplayed in a restrained Men-Aren’t-Equipped-To-Deal-With-Emotion-Of-Such-Magnitude manner, were fraught with so many layers of heartbreak; the sentence didn’t merely aim for the tear ducts: it bulls-eyed. And though I possessed not a modicum of knowledge regarding Dennis Shepard’s physical appearance, the result was contrariwise. Clemenson had erased himself, as the expression goes. At that moment, Mr. Shepard was on stage—his spirit in the art, at its heart.

However, it was Johnny Galecki‘s dynamic impersonation of Aaron McKinney (Matthew Shepard’s murderer) that truly brought the gooseflesh crackling. Whatever primal place the actor scoured to cull this character’s emotional kindling, the end result seared with a brutally intimate sense of honesty: one in which a murderer with nazi iconography embedded beneath the third layer of his skin Galecki somehow managed to carry off without an air of judgment. A raw, unrefined demeanor; the inability to self-censor; a mad cazh assertion of racism and homophobia, yes: though these characteristics were revealed through the recreation of a dialogue between McKinney and Techtonic company member Greg Pierotti (one of the many roles that showcased actor Barrett Foa‘s range).

Neither insipid nor volatile, McKinney‘s attributes were portrayed in the same vein as shadows asserting themselves in the dark. There was no overwrought performance, but rather a sense of “he is who he is; they are who they are.”

Full disclosure in my bias, though it exists with good reason: Ultimately, the most seminal role among the troupe was fulfilled by LGBTQ activist, pet rescue/animal shetler volunteer, poet, spoken word performer, singer, actress, and all-around powerhouse Pauley Perrette. Yes, she illuminates screens both large and small whenever she appears; yes, she’s got style for miles, and yes, her stage presence is infectious–whether it’s by way of deadpan delivery of company member Leigh Fondakowski (“Wal-Mart has been replaced by a Super-Wal-Mart”) or as the newspaper editor of  Laramie’s Boomerang, whose refrain that [the town] “just wanted to move on” was a source of great consternation for many locals, begging the question “Where exactly do you want [us] to move on to?”

It’s a query that Perrette, who took the initiative to organize this benefit for The Matthew Shepard Foundation—as well as the ten other actors who devoted their time and energy by participating—reminds us does not only apply to residents of a small town in Wyoming, but rather the United States as a nation.

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